


Trembling Petals

by Anonymous



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Abandoned but I've put all my plotting in last chapter, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Kidnapping, M/M, Murder, Murder Kink, Obsession, Sadism, Serial Killers, Somnophilia, Sort Of, Stalking, Suicide mention, Surveillance, Torture, so you can still see what happens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:07:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27132250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: In an alternate universe, Yassen Gregorovich is a serial killer, addicted to the thrill of the hunt, the sweet pleasure of a slow kill and the rush at watching light fade from a victim's eyes.Still haunted by the loss of John Rider fifteen years later, Yassen discovers he had a son who he can't keep away from but can't quite kill either....
Relationships: Yassen Gregorovich/Alex Rider, Yassen Gregorovich/Ian Rider, Yassen Gregorovich/John Rider
Comments: 17
Kudos: 86
Collections: Fanfic Anonymous





	1. My Love Too Much

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the warnings and tags!!!

152 murders.

7 for revenge.

11 by chance.

39 for money.

94 for pleasure.

Looking at these statistics, one might easily conclude that Yassen Gregorovich was utterly heartless.

This wasn't exactly true.

One might argue that the pleasure, the enjoyment, the elation, the satisfaction, the warmth brought about at seeing the light fade from someone's eyes and feeling a pulse flickering and fluttering to a halt that Yassen Gregorovich might describe feeling at a kill is not evidence for having a heart but rather the opposite.

Of course, nobody thought at all (at least nobody still alive) and nobody would be able to argue such a point as Yassen was far too careful at covering his tracks, far too skillful at passing as just another ordinary man you might walk by in a street.

Any such opinion about Yassen being heartless however, against all (non-existent) evidence would be wrong.

152 murders.

7 for revenge.

11 by chance.

47 for money.

86 for pleasure.

1 by necessity as tears leaked from eyelids, fingers trembled and chest, stomach and whole body squeezed and ached, dragging emptiness like knives through veins. 

An almost incomprehensible pain worse than any flesh wound that still curled sharply and painfully around Yassen Gregorovich's ribs even now, fifteen years later, try hard as he might to ignore it.

No, Yassen Gregorovich was not at all heartless. But his heart was broken.

__

It was not his broken heart that was the reason for his coming to London but it was the reason that he stayed.

Yassen travelled a lot, moving from place to place for kills so that patterns could not be formed, so that incidents could be marked by law enforcement as one offs and not the work of possibly the most prolific serial killer alive. Yassen also switched around his methods and weapons and often waited long patient times between kills for this reason also.

(He hadn't always moved around so much, it was his staying in one city for his first several dozen kills that had led to the loss of the man he loved.)

He also moved around when his skills as an assassin were required. His skillset and experience was unusual in this sector and so Yassen was in high demand and also very much comfortable in terms of money. If you're good at something, never do it for free. Well, Yassen did do it for free outside of contracts also but it was for his own enjoyment- he got paid by the delicious feeling of snuffing out the spark of life in a victim he had been stalking for weeks. (These days it was rare he killed spontaneously, far too risky).

Yassen had found himself in London for a hit. He'd finished the job easily, been paid in full, kept an eye on the police investigation to check things were going as planned, then he'd spotted a woman hurrying along the pavement. Auburn hair swept behind her, freckles scattered over her skin, pace determined yet self conscious. Yassen wanted to trace her freckles with a knife. To comb his fingers through her hair before wrapping them about her pale throat. To see the contrast of crimson against her pink lips. To taste her last breath. 

And so he had followed her onto the tube. Followed her as she emerged at Sloane Square. Carefully followed her home, then watched her for a week as he planned his move.

Her death was satisfactory but here it was the aftermath that was important.

Yassen had checked on the investigation just to check nothing had been linked back to him. This was the closest to a routine Yassen got, it was best to check that you had left exactly as many crumbs as intended and none of them led back to you, overconfidence was the death knoll in this hobby. The investigation was going exactly how he wanted it to, Yassen discovered by his remote access to their system. It wasn't the state of the investigation but rather who was on the case that caught his attention. 

Ian Rider.

Yassen hadn't really thought about the possibility of Hunter having living relatives before. He'd kept very quiet about the personal aspects of his life, not really one for pillow talk. (He'd only fucked Yassen out of necessity, had been very attentive afterwards, fussing over him but he knew in hindsight that John had felt guilty. The man had done what was necessary to complete his backstabbing mission.)

The resemblance between John and Ian wasn't startling but it was enough for Yassen, along with the surname of course, to make a connection. Some hasty research revealed that, yes, he was John's brother and Yassen felt a deep stirring within him. 

If he could turn back time Yassen would do anything to save John, hated with every molecule of his being that he'd been forced to kill the star his universe revolved around, he had felt pain like no other as all of a sudden John had just been gone. The man who held Yassen's heart in the palm of his hand suddenly crushed into nothing. 

He had loved Hunter yes, and never in a million years would ever want to kill him if he'd had a choice but he'd also been very attracted to him and attraction was often the basis for his urge to kill. 

Here was Ian Rider, who shared the same blood as his brother, had a similar build, a familiar shape to his jaw, hair a dark colour that he remembered well but with none of the emotional attachment on Yassen's end. He didn't much look like John Rider but the connection was enough and the thrill of knowing that he was closely related more than enough to awake an all consuming urge.

Yassen hadn't felt so alive in almost a decade and a half. (Though that wasn't much of an achievement really.)

And so he set about observing Ian's comings and goings from his office. He always got a cab and this made it difficult to follow him home without the resources of vehicle tracking that would require favours called in and money that really wasn't necessary as Ian had a routine. And routine kills.

Yassen kept an eye on the cabs Hunter's brother took. Always booked on the phone, never just hailed. But always the same company. It was disappointing really, John Rider had been the one to teach Yassen a large proportion of the skills he had today and one such skill drummed into him beyond any other was just how dangerous a routine was and how it could so easily be taken advantage of. And here was his brother, about to die because he either didn't know about or didn't care about this one small fact.

For Yassen very much planned to take advantage.

__

It was a Friday when Ian received the text from his cabbie and left the station he worked in to travel home. He'd had a long week investigating the murder of a young woman who had been found dead in a park. All they had managed to find out so far really was that the killer was (quite obviously) a sadist and very good at covering their tracks.

He checked the number plate of the cab against his booking like he always did and, finding it satisfactory, opened the door and slumped, exhausted in the back seat. He rattled off his address to the driver and leaned back against the headrest, closing his eyes.

'Bad week?' the cabbie asked as they pulled away.

'You could say that' muttered Ian, knitting his brows. He was looking forward to kicking back that evening with a nice cup of tea and ignoring that he'd have to work overtime from home at the weekend to help try and get to the bottom of this case. He hoped Alex didn't have anyone round this time- it was out of character for Alex to bring friends home but the last time Ian had been dealing with a case like this his nephew had been hogging the TV with two friends, all three making a racket early into the hours of the morning.

He felt the cab turn a corner and all of a sudden Ian felt quite lightheaded. He wondered briefly if he had eaten something bad or was coming down with something but then the feeling just got worse, his head thrumming, things slowing and suddenly Ian was aware that something was very wrong. He opened his eyes and found his vision was swimming, he tried to tense to push open a door, maybe get at the driver but found his limbs weren't quite responding. He recognised this feeling- he'd been knocked out by a gas before and the driver, who was now loop the looping and blurring into colours, was not one he recognised and there were no holes in the sheet seperating the cab sections like usual and the last impression before his vision nosedived into nothingness were a pair of icy blue eyes in the mirror, fixated upon him.

___

Yassen enjoyed himself that week. He'd taken Ian, after several car switches, to a farmhouse in the countryside with no neighbors. No occupants either, not after Yassen had swept through to prepare the place for Hunter's little brother. The couple that had lived here were pretty reclusive (there wasn't even a landline here) and so their absence wouldn't be noted for a while. Plenty of time for Yassen to have his fun with Ian Rider.

And have fun he did.

He didn't even wait for the man to wake up to begin and so Rider had awoken heavily restrained in an unfamiliar place with a cock thrusting in and out of his ass. 

Yassen knew how long he had until Ian was tracked down (and had taken a few days off the estimate as a precaution) and so he knew exactly how long he could stay and had plans.

As well as sex, Yassen played with pain. With burning marks in pretty patterns across the man's chest, with squeezing his thick neck until he passed out, with breaking Rider's fingers one by one, enjoying the man's gag muffled screams. 

To his credit, Ian figured out who Yassen was almost immediately after Yassen gasped Hunter whilst he rode him. He heard the distinct syllables of his name through Ian's gag. Yassen knew the man hadn't known what he looked like exactly- there were no photographs of him- but he had evidently put the descriptions together, not completely incompetent then.

No matter how much Yassen fucked him though, no matter how many pretty spirals were traced with a knife along his muscled back, no matter how much Yassen fantasised, Ian was very much not John Rider. He got an incredible thrill from it, but it was his usual rush and he'd thought it would have an extra edge he so desperately needed, he couldn't help but crave something newer, something stronger, something more.

Once he removed the gag and pressed a gentle kiss to Hunter's little brother's mouth but found there was no way he could slip his tongue in and had to suffer abuse yelled at him from a freed mouth and teeth aiming to rip chunks out of his lips. 

However, doing this to John's little brother was still extremely enjoyable, the thought of doing this to his mentor's flesh and blood invigorating but Ian was unfortunately quite disappointing in his only slight resemblance and predictable reactions and so eventually arousal, as it always did, gave way to purely bloodlust but this time fuelled by frustration, disappointment and focused rage.

___

When Ian's body was at last discovered, it was in such a mess that the police could only just about identity him.

___

Yassen was satisfied by the kill as he always was but he'd thought he would feel more and felt quite let down by this. Now his source of fun was gone and everything was back to usual, felt just the same as always. It was beyond frustrating.

Yassen stayed in hotel rooms and followed the investigation to keep his post kill glow going and to try and get more of the buzz he'd been looking for. The pale weak brush of Ian Rider's lips now fluttering weakly behind the 15 year strong aching ghost of John Rider's haunting Yassen. The regret and heartbreak of seeing Hunter's splayed out body, dead at his hands, never going to move again, felt almost fresh, raw with the loss brought once again to the very forefront of his mind. 

It was also important that the investigation was observed as Yassen had been very uncharacteristically hasty in his desire and alluring chase of the past and he needed to check he hadn't made stupid enough mistakes to be tracked.

The investigation commenced fine though, no incriminating leads found at all as days whizzed past then it was the day of Ian Rider's funeral and Yassen woke up abruptly in a cold sweat. A frantic type at his computer later, he used the address the late Rider had rattled off when entering the taxi then found himself in a car with tinted windows watching the Rider house at 5am. 

There was no activity for several hours but Yassen didn't feel any urgency to move. He'd arrived here when the neighborhood was asleep and all would assume the car was empty.

Yassen was here because he'd dreamt last night for the first time in years. Not something new, not a scene of an impossibly grisly murder like he sometimes wishes he would experience but rather a memory he had completely forgotten.

Helen Rider. 

Yassen had met Helen Rider the same day he killed her. Hunter had been in Moscow once more investigating a string of deaths but these ones not linked to a gang. The only gang ambitious enough had been shut down almost half a year prior. This time, Yassen was the murderer. Though, technically, it had been John Rider's fault.

The weekend Hunter realised it was Yassen behind the deaths, his wife had been in the country staying with him. Yassen had been round for tea and they'd been eating when, young and inexperienced, Yassen had accidentally let something slip. 

He'd seen the exact moment John connected the dots but it was too late- Yassen had already grabbed Helen and had his steak knife to her neck.

Yassen had left the flat an hour later but the Riders had left a few days later in body bags.

Yassen had remembered something in the early hours of the morning in his sleep though that he must have blocked out for a decade and a half. That day was not the first time he had seen Helen Rider.

John had been Hunter, undercover in the infamous Skorpion gang which had infected Moscow like a rapidly spreading disease and had gotten too big for its boots- killing far too many people. The authorities, who had gotten worried once one too many important upper class people had died, had hired John Rider- a highly skilled undercover cop, the very best money could buy. Yassen had not known he was police. He had known him as his mentor in the gang, a man kind enough to save a young Yassen from what would probably have been a short, brightly burning career as a whore and honeypot for Skorpion's uses. Yassen had owed him everything. Trusted him with his life, his body, his whole heart. He had also been fiercely in love with him.

One day not long before the end of Skorpion, Hunter had asked Yassen to cover for him. Yassen had done so of course but he had also carefully tailed him. And he had seen Hunter meet a woman. This woman, Yassen now remembered, had been Helen Rider. They had kissed and embraced, looking so utterly domestic and in love with each other and such a perfect picture, taking comfort in each others' presence. A sick twist of jealousy had burned within Yassen and it was this same twist that had probably blocked the memory.

The most important detail however was that Helen Rider had been heavily pregnant. Easily at least 7 months along. John had bent and kissed her belly, leaving no doubt that it was his.

There had been no sign or mention of the child the day they both had died. The baby would have been born though, several months old probably- in hindsight, it was entirely possible that it had been left in England under care.

Could it be that this child was still alive today? 

Yassen had pulled some of Ian's records, found he had a guardian status listed and immediately rushed here, parked almost but not quite right outside Ian Rider's home.

He was scared to look on his phone, to check if this really could mean John's child. He didn't want to be crushed. At least sitting in limbo in this car he could live in hope for that much longer. And so he sat, perfectly still for several hours.

Around 7am there started to be movement in the house. Yassen's breath caught and he watched intensely, hoping for a glimpse of something, anything. But the person didn't come close enough to the windows.

At 8.45 a black funeral car rolled up outside with Ian's hearse in the back. Closed casket, Yassen would assume, remembering the state he'd left Hunter's brother in. Yassen would call it art but he was sure others would probably get a bit squeamish.

Then the front door opened.

And-

A young, wild haired woman emerged dressed solemnly in black.

Yassen stared in shock for a moment then sighed. Too old, no resemblance- probably a girlfriend. He must have been mistaken, maybe the guardian status had been a mistake, maybe it had been out of date. Yassen ignored the stab of pain in his chest and prepared to start the car. He needed to get out of the country. Get some fresh air. He needed-

All thoughts abruptly stopped.

For the front door had opened again and someone else was coming out.

A teenage boy, maybe somewhere between 13 and 17, wearing a fitted black mourning suit. Softly curled honey blonde hair draped gently over his face and, oh, what a face. 

He looked like Hunter. He looked so much like Hunter but at the same time something utterly new and entirely, almost impossibly intoxicating. 

Serious brows drawn down into a shaky frown , high cheekbones visible even despite soft pink cheeks that hadn't lost the plump curve of youth. Perfectly shaped pouty lips wetted by a nervous dark pink tongue leaving a slick sheen of saliva that Yassen could spot from even where he was sitting. A narrow, proud familiar nose. And his eyes. Dark, glistening with tears and so so wide and innocent yet serious all at once, pink and puffy round the edges, swollen beautifully. They were dark like Hunter's but very different otherwise (the main difference between this boy and who must surely be his father) and somehow impossibly more alluring for it- so pure, uncorrupted.

A pearl shaped tear traced down the curve of the boy's cheeks and paused at the edge of his firmly clenched (painfully familiar) jaw that Yassen wanted to gently kiss yet bruise with a hard punch all at once.

Hunter's boy's suit clung to him, a little too snug in the chest area and hinting at musculature unusual for the age of 15, as surely that was his age. 

A small adams apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed and Yassen's eyes were then inevitably drawn to the delicate smooth expanse of skin there wanting to just bite down until crimson droplets scattered across the surface of his unmarred skin for Yassen to lick up. 

He was beautiful. He was oh so beautiful. He was like an angel. So ridiculously perfect, like a perfectly ripe peach waiting to be plucked and ravished.

Yassen had never felt like this before. Ever.

Then, all too soon, the boy was inside the hearse out of sight. 

Then the hearse was gone.

Yassen sat breathless in the car, body thrumming with heat, half crazed dizzy plans swirling through his head and already one hundred percent certain that the only thing he needed and would possibly ever need was just to see that boy again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! More will be coming soon hopefully.....  
> Thank you to everyone who inspired this, those who encouraged this and those who helped me figure out some details. You're amazing and I'm so grateful 💖  
> Here, Yassen is more reckless and impulsive than in canon... he is usually very careful and professional but sometimes his emotions rule his kills a little too much- generally only when a Rider is involved though (typical).  
> />  
> If there's anything I should tag but haven't thought of please let me know.


	2. Bad Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yassen starts to watch Alex...

Alex Rider returned home shortly after midday. Jack Starbright was once again with him and they had returned, not by hearse, but by public transport and by foot. This was evidenced by the takeout bags they were holding- there was a Burger King along the most direct route back from the church where Ian Rider had been buried.

Yassen had stayed in the car after the hearse had pulled away, there was a neighbor in their front garden and suspicion would be aroused if a car pulled away after no one being seen getting into it. This was true but also he couldn't bring himself to leave and miss glimpsing the boy again when he was already in the perfect position to do so.

He'd also had an urge to find out everything about the boy as possible, cursing himself for not looking into it years before, but modern technology was a joy and so he could pretty much get all the information possible to find -without using contacts or in person investigation- right here in his driver's seat outside the Rider residence.

Alex Rider.

Alex. Alex. _Alex_.

"Alex" Yassen had tested the name on his tongue. It tasted good. 

He'd thought about the curve of his throat and the wide, dark eyes and how soft his hair would be, what other soft areas were there on his body….before pulling himself together and focusing back on the research.

No point in making an unnecessary mess then even though his body and mind had been straining for it. If he planned this right he'd have all the time in the world to make all the messes he'd like.

Alex Rider had been under legal guardianship of Ian Rider, his uncle. Father: John Rider. Mother: Helen Rider. No known living relations left now. His guardianship was being transferred to Jack Starbright, the woman who had emerged first. From the USA, she had taken on the job as housekeeper for the Riders seven years prior so she could attend university but then she had ended up staying on. She had recently agreed to look after Alex now Ian was gone and paperwork was currently going through.

Alex Rider attended Brookland Comprehensive School. He was a good student, not the highest in his classes at anything but always very near the top all the way from mathematics to art. An all rounder, though it was noted in his reports that he excelled in physical education. Yassen had found a picture of Alex then on the school website and gotten distracted. The firm grip of the shirt collar around his neck, the sit of the blazer around his shoulders, the tantalising innocence of Hunter's boy all dressed up as english school kid and of course his beautiful face and gently curling hair falling over his dark, serious big eyes.

Yassen had only just caught himself before hands drifted towards his zipper. 

He wasn't usually like this. (Or at least he wasn't usually quite so bad.) There was something breathtaking about the young Rider, something that nigh on dissolved his self restraint and he wasn't quite sure exactly how but Alex Rider was irresistible.

Back on task, Yassen had discovered that Alex had a black belt in krav maga, a scuba diving license and was experienced in many other areas of extreme (and otherwise) sport including snowboarding and mountain climbing. He was also pretty much fluent in three languages. Yassen frowned as he discovered this. These weren't the usual things you'd expect someone his young age to have had as hobbies in quite a serious way. They were all skills involving aspects that were very transferable to Ian Rider's line of work and Yassen was willing to bet there was more Alex knew that wasn't recorded in paperwork or on the internet somewhere. Ian Rider had been training Alex to follow in his father's and uncle's footsteps specialising in undercover it seemed. 

The heavily hinted at competence did nothing to dissuade Yassen, in fact it drew him in impossibly further- strength hidden in a deceivingly small frame was very much a turn on for Yassen and he loved it when his victims fought back, it made the end result all that much more satisfying…

By the time Alex and Jack appeared at the end of the road, Yassen had thoroughly scoured the internet for everything he could find out about Alex Rider.

Catching movement, Yassen tensed in excitement as they turned the corner and suddenly he was looking at the boy once more, drinking in the delicious sight of him.

He was all contrasts- fair hair, glossy chocolate eyes, the pure white of his shirt, the dark cut of his suit, smooth lightly tanned skin and the perfect shade of pink around his eyes where he'd been crying. 

He wasn't crying anymore, not like earlier, and his pink pouty lips were clenched determinedly.

He'd taken off his jacket and it was shoved under his arm.

Alex walked confidently and, as they came past him, Yassen observed how the muscles shifted under the crisp white shirt. He followed the smooth curve of the young teen's back, past the tuck of the shirt into slight hips and settled his eyes on the mouthwateringly round pert ass that was filling out his trousers beautifully.

Yassen imagined creeping up behind the boy if he was alone. He would grab him by his fluffy head of hair and pull so the line of his long neck faced the sky. He'd grind his dick against that plump, perfect ass and chase pleasure as the boy gasped and begged for him to stop. He'd bite at the long pale neck, untuck the shirt and rub his thumbs against the baby soft skin of his stomach. 

Yassen realized he'd unzipped his trousers, eyes focused on Alex Rider as he started to stroke his cock. Imagining taking him, imagining drawing blood from his smooth skin, claiming the boy as his.

They were fumbling at the front door, looking for keys. Yassen drank in the sight of the young Rider as he thrust into his fist desperately.

Alex bent down to place the takeout on the floor and Yassen's cock grew impossibly harder at the sight of round cheeks straining against the suit.

The boy then fumbled around in his trouser pockets for something, stretching the material tighter and sending yet more dizzying waves of desire through Yassen. He imagined fucking the boy, tight hot heat around him and slapping his body against that perfect ass with every thrust. The noises he might make, what his voice might sound like crying out his name, the smell of sex in the air.

Alex emerged triumphant holding up his keys and, just before they entered, he looked around almost exactly at where Yassen was desperately twisting and jerking his hand behind a tinted window. He came at the sight of John Rider's son's angelic face, white stars echoing.

Then once more Alex Rider was gone, the front door closed.

But this time Yassen was left in a mess, come splattered up himself and in shock at how fast he'd orgasmed. He supposed the constant hardening and fighting the urge to get off over the past several hours had helped but still, for his age and past, it was quite shocking.

He needed more.

Yassen hated the four walls that were blocking the sight of the object of his desires. He needed to do something about that and he had just the idea.

He cleaned himself up the best he could and drove away.

___

Yassen had suppliers, people he might go to when looking to acquire a certain illegal or suspicious thing.

One such supplier could get him tiny tiny cameras and bugs which could easily be installed and go unnoticed in even a paranoid experienced person's house, let alone a civilian's.

He wanted to be able to see everything Alex did, to be able to watch him at any second he pleased, to learn everything he possibly could about this pretty boy who was Hunter's son.

Unfortunately the quickest Yassen could negotiate them being acquired and delivered to him was in 4 to 5 days. In the meantime however, there were ways to make the most of his time.

He broke into Alex's school that very evening. They had security measures of course but they were no match against Yassen. He found a computer suitable for his needs and set about hacking into the school system and the security feeds. He could've done this remotely but it would've taken a lot more time and skill. Besides, Yassen had other plans too so it was convenient.

He set things up so the feed of the cameras would, undetected, be fed to Yassen's devices. They weren't ideal. They only covered certain areas and weren't in the classrooms but glimpses of Alex were better than nothing. He also hoped it would give Yassen an insight into his friend groups and routine. He needed to know where Alex was vulnerable and what aspects of his life could be taken advantage of. He needed to know his pressure points, weaknesses and where he could be found at certain times.

It was less than 24 hours he had known of the boy's existence yet already he was utterly attached to him. Alex Rider, though he didn't know it, was now Yassen's. His to touch, his to hurt, his to fuck, his to kill. More so even than any prior victim. Yassen did not want to waste the incredible potential and intended to stick around him for a very long time.

He had never fixated on someone so young as a victim before but the fact Hunter's son was only fifteen did not bother him. Why should Yassen be bothered about a beautiful little thing being a couple years younger than society deemed acceptable when he was not bothered by -and in fact enjoyed- torturing, molesting and murdering people whenever he so much as pleased which was, of course, not acceptable at any age. 

The allure of the purity and vulnerability of his tender age was also, as he had discovered during the past day, a turn on for Yassen.

Alex's school reports were on the system but Yassen had already hacked in and scoured those remotely. Instead he found his timetable and records. The records might not include anything he didn't already know but it didn't hurt to check. The timetable, however, was an extremely rich source of information. It not only provided where Alex could be found at any given time of the school day but also revealed the names of teachers whose accounts he could access and look for more information about Alex. They were also very useful as Alex was likely to trust them but Yassen might very well be able to buy someone off for varying favours.

After he had set everything up, including a link into Alex's account so he could keep an eye on what the boy was doing, he set off to find his locker. It was pitch black in the school but Yassen had a tiny torch which he scanned the locker labels with carefully, avoiding letting any light escape out the windows. No one had been about but Yassen was very careful. He wouldn't have been a successful killer for a decade and a half otherwise.

He didn't have to search the whole school- he had checked where the year 10's lockers were- near the science block, tucked in the hallway and luckily in sight of a (currently looped) security camera- and Yassen methodically worked his way along the rows from top to bottom. Some time would be saved if the location of each student's locker were logged online but unfortunately students were left to their own devices when it came to lockers- they even had to provide their own padlock. Yassen noticed that some lockers didn't even have locks on them despite having names- he really hoped those students didn't leave anything valuable or personal in them or they were incredibly stupid. 

Eventually Yassen came to Alex's locker. Alex's handwriting, for surely this was it, was a messy yet firm scrawl with quite a bit of elegance to it. It was very different to how John Rider's neat print had been, and reflecting on how even that was probably a lie, Yassen decided he preferred Alex's. Alex had probably the sturdiest padlock there. It's bars were too thick to be broken with anything but a large obvious bolt cutter or lever, it was a key lock so it couldn't be reset….it could be picked but- Yassen examined the lock- it would take skill and, if the lockpicker had not broken in during the middle of the night like him, it would take a while so they were likely to be caught before completing the task. Alex Rider was very careful. He wondered if there even was anything more important than books in there or if he'd taken the precaution automatically. Or perhaps he was just paranoid. 

Before Yassen got his lockpick out he took out a handy device he'd invested in. It was a specialised scanner. He could scan the keyhole and it would pick up the shape inside so Yassen could visit a questionable person to have a key cut for much easier access to Alex's locker whenever he pleased. 

Job done, he set about picking the lock. It was very dark in the school but he tried to imagine it in the bright lights of day, Hunter's son coming up to here laden down with books and holding the very padlock that Yassen was holding now. It was a small thing but it made him quite excited as it was the closest contact he'd had with the boy so far.

The padlock's mechanism gave way with a click and Yassen opened the door. 

There wasn't much in here. A couple of exercise books and a stack of thick text books, a Chelsea football sticker on the inside of the door, some paper. Most interestingly of all there was a gym bag.

Yassen eyed the gym bag carefully before pulling out an exercise book. He had been right, that was Alex's handwriting. He flicked through the book, observed how his writing often dissolved into messy scrawl by the end of a lesson. He wondered if that was a metaphor for other aspects in the boy's life. Yassen traced a hand across the paragraphs. John Rider's son had touched this. His direct flesh and blood and a very pretty boy at that. A shiver crawled down his spine as he slipped the book back then pulled out the gym bag.

Yassen pulled out the top item- a t-shirt, standard for the school's uniform. He leaned in and sniffed it. It smelt surprisingly clean for a teenage boy's gym kit but there was a hint of a unique musk and a tinge of sharp deodorant as well as a touch of mown grass from a stain.

If he dragged his lips down a delicious tendon on the boy's neck would he smell the same, Yassen couldn't help but wonder with a spark of arousal.

He carefully laid out the rest of the contents of the bag on the floor to examine. The shin pads, gum shield and spikes were pretty expensive high quality kit. He doubted the rest of Alex's school had similar- his boy's kit showed very good taste in equipment. Yassen wondered if it was Alex or Ian who had chosen them.

He gently packed the kit back into the bag the same way as he had found it and took one last deep inhale of the scent before once again locking the locker. 

It was time to go.

___

The next morning when Alex Rider arrived at school he glanced uncertainly at his locker, something feeling not quite right, before dismissing it and carrying on as usual.

He had no clue that his uncle's murderer and father's old mentoree was now obsessively stalking him just as he had no idea that ,several metres away, the same man had jerked off to the sight of him yesterday returning from that very uncle's funeral and just how he had no idea that the same killer was currently watching him from the security feed of his school and tomorrow would take advantage of his jumping right back into school and Jack doing the weekly shop to invade his home.

___

Yesterday hadn't been overly interesting unfortunately. Yassen had watched Alex Rider leave for school deliciously wrapped in the uniform he'd seen on the site from his position in a newly rented car, mouth dry. The boy had been cycling leisurely on a roadracer bike but Yassen could spot the delicious strength, coordination and ease with which he handled it.

He'd then stayed in the car all day watching the house for any sign of Starbright leaving to take advantage but unfortunately there had been no sign of her. He'd also been watching the school's security feed though- eyes quickly jumping whenever he caught a flash of blonde. He saw a glimpse of Alex entering the school gates with another boy then, via the fortunate camera that pointed towards Alex's row of lockers, had glimpsed him a tad later chatting with the same boy retrieving some books. The other boy had a locker next to his Alex's and had looked like he might be close friend. He remembered the locker from last night- Tom Harris, one of the kids without a padlock.

After that he'd only spotted very occasional glimpses of the back of Alex's head.

Glued to the screen though he'd sat in anticipative silence. At lunchtime Yassen had slowly and methodically eaten a packed sandwich.

Shortly after three thirty, Alex had returned to the locker for the end of the day with two other boys, one of them the alleged Tom, and sorted out his bag before being caught leaving via earlier's bike at the school gates.

He'd then observed the boy cycle back home, fabric of the school trousers catching deliciously tight around his legs as he'd passed by Yassen's window.

Overall though, he hadn't achieved much, too scared of missing a glimpse of Alex on the camera feed and hindered by Starbright staying in.

But, in contrast, Yassen had gotten quite a lot done today. Alex Rider had been driven to school by Starbright as Yassen watched from yet a different car. The young woman had been carrying shopping bags. He'd decided that hopefully she'd be out for a while.

Yassen had made his move quickly, scanning the front and back door locks with his equipment, keeping an eye out for neighbors, before picking his way carefully in through the back. He'd then scoped out the house, deciding upon where to place bugs. He had however been distracted by a glimpse of Alex on the fridge. There had been lots of pictures on the fridge. Alex and Ian Rider at a martial arts class (Yassen had noted the name on the uniform), a younger Alex with a snowboard grinning on a snow powdered mountain, then one with Ian, Alex and Jack together- Ian's hand on the back of Alex's neck and Yassen couldn't help but suppress a shiver- the memory of the older man underneath him and the promise of the young boy who would hopefully be soon. 

Yassen had been somewhat shaken by discovering a picture of John and Helen Rider with a baby Alex. Though he remembered it well, he had not seen John's face since he had laid at his feet, dead and pale, the blood on Yassen's hands.

Yassen had photographed all the pictures then moved on to Alex's room where he had almost immediately carefully buried his face in the boy's sheets, inhaling the unique scent pure and unrefined, before taking note of anything important and giving himself remote access to Alex's laptop and Google accounts via some careful, practiced hacking. He'd then had a careful rummage through drawers and in the wardrobe at favourite brands (if you could bear to call the painfully plain and baggy casual wear Yassen found branded). He found some receipts including some to a gym's coffee shop, another coffee shop (which he later discovered was right next to the martial arts school Yassen had noted from the photo) and many for a convenience store. There were more photos pinned up in here next to Chelsea football posters- images of Alex with other boys. Yassen snapped these too for perusing later, ignoring the slight flutter at the utter sunshine that was Hunter's son's smile and had then slipped into the en suite bathroom. 

Yassen had been looking for ideal camera spots but he'd spotted a lone electric toothbrush and before he'd known what he was doing he had picked it up and licked the bristles. It tasted of mint and mint only but Yassen had found himself utterly aroused at his mouth touching what had been in Alex's and the knowledge that the boy would unknowingly taste his saliva later.

He'd left then, trousers uncomfortably tight, not wanting to still be there when Jack returned but possessing a pleasant buzz. 

Yassen then had scoped out the gym and the martial arts centre, getting a membership at the gym and determining good observation spots at both.

Now he had arrived back in the car near the Rider's house just in time for Alex to return. He was on foot- must have got a bus or walked home- and Yassen stared at him with hungry, hungry eyes as he passed. Imagined throwing all plans to the wind, pushing open the car door and pouncing upon the boy, ravishing him on the street for all to see.

Yassen's fantasising was cut short however as a car door opened just behind Alex, blocking the marvellous view of his pert ass, and a man stepped out towards him.

'Alex!' called the man and the boy's shoulders tensed as he turned around. Yassen tensed too at this, he hadn't been watching Alex long at all....who knew what sorts of trouble he could've been mixed up with. He didn't plan to lose his prize to someone else.

The man appeared to be dressed in a cheap suit. Maybe something from Mark's and Spencers or the like. He held himself with authority and had greying hair but Yassen couldn't see his face. The car he had emerged from was a black Mercedes, not overly flashy but also not cheap. Tinted windows.

'Hi' said Alex. From Yassen's position he couldn't actually hear the normal level speaking but he was close enough that he didn't dare crack his window. He knew how to lip read but unfortunately the unidentified man had his back to him so he couldn't see his reply.

Alex's face was set pleasantly enough but Yassen could see some tension in his frame at what was being said- this didn't necessarily mean anything though. Yassen was in no position to read someone he'd only first seen the previous day even though it felt like much longer (and also not long enough all at once).

He nodded once at what the man was saying and Yassen cursed that he had no idea- this man could really be anyone but the car he'd emerged from and the way he'd been waiting for Alex unfortunately didn't point to something innocent. 

Yassen studied the expression on Alex's face, committing it to memory. His lips, often full and pouty from Yassen's experience, were pressed a little thin. His jaw was set somewhat stubbornly. There was something glinting in his dark eyes- defiance? anger? embarassment? tears? From this distance and with Yassen's lack of inside knowledge he really couldn't be sure.

Eventually the man seemed to finish and Alex drew in a breath before smiling. And oh, it may have been faked and not as pure and bright as the ones he'd glimpsed in those pictures but it was breathtaking, Yassen desperately wanted to see a real smile in person.....however he also wanted to see what pain and what pleasure twisted his boy's face into.

'Sorry.' said Alex, shaking his head still smiling. 'Unfortunately I'm not interested in your position but if I change my mind I'll let you know...'

He paused.

'...about what you said about knowing Ian I-'

He paused again and appeared to be carefully composing his features.

'I'll call you if I want to talk' he finished, nodding firmly.

The mystery man nodded and shook Alex's hand before disappearing back into his car -of which Yassen had noted the number plate.

Alex paused for a moment, not moving as the car pulled away. He looked conflicted. His cheeks flushed pink and long graceful fingers twitching. He watched the car leave then seemed to shake himself out of it, rushing up the pathway and letting himself into his home.

Grief. It wasn't that strange a concept to Yassen. In fact he was very familiar with it- he tried not to think about John Rider but the sharp painful feeling always crept back time and time again. After he'd discovered Ian Rider's existence it had been more potent than it had been in years. Seeing John's features mirrored in Alex's was painful but.......also very interesting. Alex Rider was Hunter's legacy and almost completely a baby faced image of his father. It was fascinating.

Yassen didn't understand grief in situations not related to Hunter. He'd been annoyed when his family had been killed when he'd been a year or two older than Alex was now but he'd hunted down those responsible and it had been great fun- after that he'd never so much as spared a thought to them. It was odd to Yassen that the man he'd fucked, tortured and enjoyed using the week before last was causing this boy -his nephew and Hunter's son- such anguish. It was death sure, he wasn't coming back but really he hadn't been all that interesting a man (he had barely even looked like Hunter) and it wasn't exactly the worst thing that he was now gone. Maybe they'd been close….try as he might though, Yassen really didn't understand how people felt such empathy with so many people. His relationship with Hunter had felt lightyears different to any others, fuelled by lust and dependence and trust as it was. Yassen knew there was something not quite right with him obviously but knowing was not understanding in such situations.

Yassen thought about Alex yesterday before and after the funeral and now today. His pink eyes, tight lips, glistening tears, tense frame, flushed cheeks. He found he didn't enjoy that other man getting these reactions out of Alex but the emotion caused by Ian's death which was, of course, at Yassen's hands should really, he knew theoretically, have made Yassen feel bad but in actual fact it was _exhilarating_.

How else could he hurt this boy to get such pretty reactions out of him? Were there limits to what he could do? Yassen desperately intended to find out.

On the subject of that other man though….. Yassen's thoughts pulled back on track and he frowned. He needed to find out who he was and that number plate was a good start. So was knowing he knew Ian Rider- possibly a colleague? But what was this about a position? Something to do with the police? But surely Alex was too young….. Yassen would look into this man and he'd look into whether the department may have any interest in Alex or what other possible reasons there could be for the conversation. If needed he would take care of it.

Yassen's scheming was then abruptly interrupted by a notification on his phone alerting him that Alex's laptop had been turned on. He'd worry about the man later….for now it was time to see what exactly his boy got up to on the internet.

This should keep him amused enough until the surveillance equipment was ready- he'd heard that a teenage boy's search history was always interesting and Yassen was quite sure Alex would not be an exception.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!!!  
> And hopefully I'll be able to update again soon despite the all work I've got to be doing...got quite a lot of interesting things planned out and I can barely wait...  
> Chapter title from Bad Intentions by Digital Daggers


	3. Behind the Looking Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yassen very much enjoys the merits of modern technology as he awaits the delivery of the surveillance equipment still.

Alex Rider was very careful with his search history it appeared. It was pretty much completely empty except for some innocent Google searches like word definitions and things that were very obviously for homework like historical figures and physics equations.

Yassen very much doubted it was due to a studious nature and rather more due to a suspicious level of familiarity with the clear history option........he could access the cleared history but unfortunately it would take a bit of a while. He decided it was best to tackle later and instead watched through Alex's webcam as he typed an essay, occasionally texting on his phone it appeared by the rapidly moving fingers. It would be very useful to have access to Alex's phone but unfortunately it would require quite a bit of planning as he almost always kept it on him and getting access to the camera or his messages would unfortunately take more than just access to his google account. He could probably do it remotely though..... he'd see.

Alex though, Alex - this was the closest detail he'd seen his face- the webcam was pretty good quality. His eyes really were the prettiest shade of brown and the screen glistened back in them, blue and making them dance. His eyes were slightly watery- one of the signs showing he was pretty tired after the day at school- and Yassen's mouth was dry just looking at them, he wondered what other situations he could make his boy's eyes water in. A hand around his throat perhaps, or maybe a body at his feet or that pretty pink mouth of his scarlet with blood, wrapped around the base of Yassen's dick shoved deep down his throat.

Alex Rider had a habit of chewing on a pencil and it was a good damn job that Jack's voice called up that there was an early tea ready downstairs. It gave Yassen a chance to floor it home and take matters to his bed.

But- this was the first time he'd ever heard Alex's voice out loud- his call down to Jack was a simple 'Coming!' but made a very good soundtrack on repeat and full volume as Yassen sped through the streets. His voice was so _delicious_ , it seemed to have broken and was quite deep but at the same time was very soft and mild and soothing- he sounded like his father a tiny bit but with much less of the suave confidence and Hunter's voice had been a deeper too.

Once Yassen arrived at his hotel room, after breaking every traffic law he possibly could without getting detected whilst twitching desperately to the recording, he immediately slid into bed and booted up his laptop. He wasn't a believer in god but he was very grateful to whoever had designed this laptop with such a quick start up speed.

In fact, once it was up and loaded, there was no sign of Alex. He scrolled back through the footage to make sure he hadn't missed him and, rather luckily, he hadn't. In fact Yassen waited a good five minutes before Alex returned. He made great use of those minutes though. Some lube and a box of tissues was sourced and all clothes removed as he stretched back on the bedsheets.

Alex strolled back into the room a few seconds after Yassen had finished arranging himself. 

This was going to be a long, enjoyable evening, Yassen thought as Alex plopped himself belly first onto his bed with his laptop, face close to the camera and pencil already returning to his lips which appeared to be stained a dark pink from whatever he'd eaten.

Yassen slicked up his fingers and started to slowly stroke his inflating cock as his boy opened up a word document and started to type what appeared to be an essay for history on the build up to world war two.

Yassen was in no rush, his eyes slowly flickered across the slightly grainy warm tone of Alex's face , the plump of his cheeks, the curve of his almost scarlet, full lips twisted around the thin long line of the pencil, absently nibbling as his other hand typed frantically away with a soothing background lullaby. 

Waves of pleasure slowly thrummed through Yassen at the sight of Hunter's beautiful, beautiful son like this, completely unaware of any attention and utterly unguarded, face lax of any emotion and eyes focused on the screen reflected in them.

He could barely wait until the cameras and bugs arrived for Yassen to plant. Right now he could only see Alex's face and it wasn't the best angle but beggars couldn't be choosers and so Yassen was riding a heady wave of arousal, the sight of his boy and the slide of his hand against his cock sending tingles up and down his spine and loosening his muscles.

Then Alex saved and shut the document before abruptly getting up. Yassen's hand froze on his dick as he frowned, he wouldn't have gone so slowly if he had known Alex would leave his view so quickly... but then there was the sound of a door shutting and Alex was back in frame. 

The laptop was still on the bed and Alex was standing up so Yassen had a view of Alex's legs but also his crotch and........the fabric of the young teen's school trousers was stretched around a very obvious erection. Yassen's eyes widened and his cock hardened to an almost painful urgency at the sight.

Had he somehow sensed him? Or was Alex just drowning in teenage hormones and going to jerk off to something on his computer? Was Yassen really going to be so lucky as to witness such a thing before he'd even got the cameras installed?

The boy leaned forwards, his erection looking quite large behind the fabric and leaving Yassen wondering just what his boy's cock looked like....

Thoughts were very abruptly cut off however when the lid of the laptop was slammed shut leaving Yassen's screen in sudden, shocking darkness.

His boy had shut the lid on him. 

It was so infuriating, Yassen had never been so infuriated- somewhere out there Alex Rider was probably wrapping his right hand around his cock and making delectable little noises as he chased his way towards release yet meanwhile Yassen was left here with a sudden, unavoidable lack of visual stimulus and cock hard, aching and wanting.

Yassen cursed.

If only he had those cameras already. But he wouldn't be able to get them until the day after tomorrow and he needed them now.

Yassen jerked his hand up and down his cock a few more times, applying more pressure, going faster. Desperate to chase the memory of Alex's dark pretty eyes, pink spit slick lips wrapped about a pencil and the telling bulge of an erection through his schoolboy pants.

It wasn't the same though. Yassen felt like a donkey chasing a carrot on a stick. So _close_ yet _so far_. Like a lot of things in life Yassen found himself wanting, _needing_ more.

He cursed again and was just wondering whether he should cut his losses and take a long, cold shower when he caught a glimpse of movement on his own, still open, screen.

Alex had opened up something on his phone and his connected google account meant Yassen could see it.

And, oh.

Maybe Yassen wasn't going to suffer from blue balls after all. It wasn't a feed of Alex but his boy had opened up an incognito tab for pornhub. Too bad (or rather, too good), Alex wasn't quite as incognito as he thought he was.

Yassen's cock started to stiffen again in anticipation as the search bar was pulled up. It wasn't video footage of Alex Rider with a fist wrapped about his dick but he was going to witness exactly what the boy got off to. Even if it was via the, less expensive than Yassen's tastes, website of pornhub.

Yassen licked his lips.

After a moment of hesitation text quickly filled the search bar.

 _ **restraints**_

it was rapidly backspaced then instead

_**non con roleplay riding** _

and enter was hit.

Yassen's mouth completely dried out, the only movement was his hand sliding up and down his length frantically. Was he really- was his boy really into- 

Options were scrolled through before Alex settled on a video of a beautiful dark featured naked woman with big tits and dark red full lips with a blonde, younger man strapped to a table. The boy was all smooth pale muscle and light feathery mussed hair, eyes glistening with faked tears as he writhed against the table and the woman settled down onto his cock and started to slide up and down. Her tits were flushed and dark and bouncing rhythmically, her eyes gleamed with menace and lust but Yassen only had eyes for the man. If he squinted, his face could be Alex's. Yassen squinted very hard.

He thought about his boy, his pretty face like he last saw it but all flushed pink with arousal, hand sliding in an inexperienced way up and down an angrily flushed cock in his childhood bedroom as he fantasised about being _forced_. John Rider's son. Surely imagining himself in this young man's place, being restrained, helpless as someone mercilessly took him.

Yassen imagined that he was in the woman's place and that his cock was brutally fucking into Alex Rider's tight hole. Taking him, claiming him, the boy completely at his mercy. He conjured up the scent he remembered from his bedsheets, the minty taste of his boy's toothbrush. He imagined that the gasps were Alex's and the slaps of flesh were Yassen's balls against his spread cheeks as he claimed him completely and took his innocence.

Yassen came with a choked off moan and flopped boneless back on the bed, watching as the video ran on before it was stopped and the tab shut. The history was checked just in case then the browser shut.

Meanwhile, he was in a dazed haze. Surely Yassen was dreaming? Alex Rider, John Rider's flesh and blood and only son and a pretty boy whose every inch of flesh set him alight with desire and bloodlust, _wanted_ to be fucked. Wanted to be taken. Wanted someone to tie him down and ravish him. Of course, confronted with such a situation in reality he might not be so enthusiastic or this might have been a one off- there was no way for Yassen to know Alex found release- but he found he didn't care. This boy was completely and utterly his now. His to do with whatever the fuck Yassen desired. A dirty little slut of a teenage boy just begging to have his perfectly round ass completely and utterly ravished and destroyed. 

\---

The next day was frustrating because it was just one more day until Yassen would have the surveillance equipment. Still, he managed to get plenty done.

He travelled to get the keys cut- both for Alex's house and his locker and, on the journey back, Yassen stopped at a florist. He bought a bouquet of coral roses, breathtakingly beautiful with soft petals and sharp thorns.

He ate lunch in his hotel room whilst exploring Alex's Google account- Google photos truly was an utter gift. To Yassen's shock and delight he'd checked it on a whim, feeling grateful to Alex's account from last night and especially hungry, then discovered his boy's phone was set to back up all photos to Google. Modern technology. People really could take advantage.

Yassen started to scroll through. There were pictures of notes, snapshots of some other boys in school uniforms messing about, pictures of some sunsets, a photo of a number plate here, a short carefully video of a boy whose face wasn't visible talking to a young man in a skoda there. Yassen watched in delight as he realised it was a surreptitiously taken video of a drug dealer. His boy was _clever_ \- making sure the boy's face wasn't visible, getting the man's face fully visible if a little small and not being detected in the process. Yassen wondered if his boy was blackmailing a local drug dealer. 

He thought carefully about that man in that cheap suit who had talked to the young Rider- it didn't quite fit though annoyingly- the car and suit too flashy seeming in contrast to the Skoda and young addict looking dealer. The vibe of M&S man too put together. The number plate search hadn't yielded many more clues, registered to a banking company and frustratingly the man had looked like a banker- it was entirely plausible that the man was a banker who was involved in Ian Rider's will. But Alex had said he wasn't interested in his 'position' not his 'help' then there was the matter of his knowing Ian- somehow he doubted discussions with Ian over a will would create a bond strong enough that Alex Rider would be offered to talk to the man about him ....it was very strange. Yassen would think on it further at a later date.

He glanced at the time and reluctantly closed the Google photos tab despite not finding any pictures of Alex yet. Yassen had other things he needed to do.

He settled down and started apartment shopping. He was going to be here for a while. No one was tracking him right now and so it wouldn't hurt to allow some comfortability.

By the time he'd found somewhere suitable and expressed interest, it was nearing three o clock, just enough time to reach Alex's school in time for his exit. He glanced at his phone before he left. Alex, rather stupidly, left his location on which was tracked by google and it showed he was definitely still currently in school.

Yassen managed to park in the perfect spot. He'd been there 10 minutes until school children started to pour out and then another 5 minutes until Alex emerged, wheeling his bike through the crowds of kids. To Yassen's luck he scooted around a large gaggle of slow traffic in the middle of the pavement and walked straight past Yassen's window at the edge of the kerb.

He really was very pretty, Yassen found himself thinking once more, very pretty indeed. From this distance he could see the texture of the skin on the curve of his neck, the delicate detail of long fingers curled about bike handles, Alex's face couldn't be seen from this angle but he saw the strong line of his jawbone, the spot that his dick had strained against last night and, most deliciously, the firm, round, tempting curve of that plush ass which strained against those school pants with every step.

Yassen watched him, throat dry as he walked past, away and then climbed onto his bike and set off. He imagined what his boy might have looked like last night, flushed, imagining himself restrained and dominated. 

Yassen was very sorry when he disappeared from sight.

He really could've followed him but he had business here.

Yassen idly set about uncovering Alex's hidden search history as he waited for staff and schoolkids to empty the building. By the time only a few stragglers were remaining he found success. Common recurring visits to pornhub, search history for certain sexual terms and methodology on getting off that reminded Yassen just how young his boy was.

Yassen licked his lips and scrolled through some of the more recently viewed videos.

His boy definitely was into dubious consent at the very least. It was a very recurring theme. Yassen could _very much_ work with that, he really could. Images of Alex tied up in a double bed came to mind, lightly tanned yards of soft skin against pure white bed sheets, dark ties holding him down. He thought of the few words he had heard his boy utter and wondered what delicious noises he'd make.

Unfortunately, another recurring theme was women. Yassen frowned as he scrolled through, checking each one until after about five he hit gold- two videos including a variant of a beefy muscular man holding down a young twink as he fucked into him and shortly before that a scattering of threesome videos featuring two men and only one woman with the woman in a predominantly dominating role. 

Yassen thought about Alex sitting in his room, pink lips worrying at a pencil as he debated his sexuality. It was quite telling- the way that, after watching those last two videos, Alex had immediately browsed their creators' pages then several more gay sections of pornhub without clicking on anything before no more porn pages were opened for over a week- quite rare in the young Rider's terms, Yassen observed.

Yassen's hand snuck down to his pants and he allowed one, two rubs of his palm against his clothed crotch before pulling his hand away and gathering himself together. He was extremely turned on and Yassen needed to stop himself before he got carried away, later he would continue browsing Google photos and he would find a photo of Alex, however long it took, and play that video his boy had watched and imagine fucking him, controlling him, hurting him within and inch of his life.

But for now- the school was empty enough and it was late enough that Yassen could accomplish his task finally.

\---

The next morning, Alex opened his locker door to discover a beautiful bouquet of coral roses. His eyes widened in shock at the sight. 

His best friend, Tom, found it hilarious whilst secretly quite jealous- he searched it up and laughed even more upon discovering they symbolised desire. 

Alex snatched the phone from his friend and scrolled through, protesting that it also meant friendship. 

Tom pointed out it said it rested between friendship and I love you.

"So basically friends with benefits" Tom laughed and Alex smacked him on the arm, flushing a deep pink. 

As Alex put the flowers back in the locker his finger caught on a thorn, causing a ruby pearl of blood to rush up through torn skin on his finger which he sucked into his mouth absentmindedly.

Who could they be from, both boys wondered.

\---

Whilst this was happening, in a hotel several miles away, the sender of the roses had been waiting, well rested and blissed out from recreation the night before after discovering a nice batch of high quality selfies of Alex Rider.

The man licked his lips at witnessing the boy suck crimson from his finger through the school's fuzzy yet legible CCTV.

Then there was a brief, agreed upon knock on hard wood and Yassen got up, opened his room's door and took something from a nondescript yet carefully poised delivery man.

His parcels had finally arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!!!! Sorry the updates aren't on any sort of schedule- I'm pretty busy but rest assured I do have a lot plotted out that I'm pretty excited to write...  
> Thank you so much for reading!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad news unfortunately: I have decided to discontinue this because I've lost the desire to write it. Here is an already written start of a chapter and next chapter I'll post my planning just so you can know what would've happened. Sorry and apologies to anyone who was enjoying this.

There was a problem in that Jack Starbright was in the house when Yassen arrived on the Riders' street. He could glimpse her moving about occasionally within the house. Usually Yassen wouldn't have much trouble removing such an obstacle- his usual method was to kill and he could do that extremely easily but it would very much get in his way of Alex if Jack were to die. Not to mention, bring down police attention on the Rider household- most of them didn't believe in coincidence and a passed Ian Rider living in the same house as a recently murdered Jack Starbright would surely flag up every sort of wrong attention and snatch Alex from his grasp.

The best solution would be to fake a phonecall, demanding her presence somewhere. Yassen had spent the morning before Alex had arrived at school digging through Alex's emails, photos, google documents and search history looking for ideas to get her out of the house for a while. He'd discovered a document full of present ideas for Jack and some photos at the most which weren't exactly helpful. But then he'd discovered a screenshot on Alex's computer of an email on Starbright's account that was an order confirmation for a parcel that was due to arrive tomorrow.

Yassen created a fake account mimicking the company of the sender- Argos- saying that the parcel couldn't be delivered and so is being held at a store about a 35 minute journey away and that it could only be held for up to 3 hours. 

It was a very odd thing for a company to do but Yassen had the order number and a good faked email and so he was sure Star right would take the bait. From what he'd seen so far from Alex's accounts, they got on well and surely she would pop out to avoid disappointing Alex. 

Yassen sent the email.

If it worked it would buy him at least an hour to plant the bugs. If it didn't work then Yassen would just have to wait until Jack left the house of her own accord which would be very frustrating but he would have to deal with it. If he hadn't been so distracted by the delectability of Alex Rider then he would have had the sense to plan something more concrete- perhaps he could've booked a doctor's checkup for Jack then rung her posing as the surgery pretending it was a compulsory appointment booked for her. But it was too late now.

Yassen browsed Alex's Google photos as he waited in the car. He really had been spending quite a lot of time lurking in cars outside buildings fighting hard ons lately and this was no exception.

\---

Half an hour later Yassen had found a photo of Alex sucking a lolly pop with the Tom Harris character and was muffling low growls of desire, frantically grinding his palm against his clothed dick as he stared intensely at the red stained, shiny lips of the young Rider wrapped about a spit slick lolly, wanting desperately to have those sane lips wrapped around his cock or perhaps stained with blood rather than lolly. Alex Rider would look good with blood painted across his lips, so very good. It would contrast beautifully against his light tan and fair hair, John had looked incredible splatted with blood from a kill and Ian had looked quite good soaked in blood from his mutilated skin and Yassen was somehow sure Alex would fit right on that list, possibly even at the top. And those lips, those lips were  _ sinful _ , the noises they'd make, how they'd look, how they'd feel encompassing Yassen's aching cock….

Yassen jumped, knocked out of his mindless desire as a front door opened.

Jack. In a hurry. Either off to that This or out for some other reason. Either way Yassen was taking advantage. 

She'd only just left the road when Yassen grabbed the supplies from the glovebox and, copied keys in hand, strolled up the house's drive and let himself in.

Time to get to work. 


	5. Plotting for the rest, sorry.

When the cameras are in Yassen's hands he plants them in the house and Alex's bedroom. Suddenly Yassen has gone from seeing Alex for glimpses at times whilst trying to stay hidden to having an uninterrupted view of him whenever he is at home. Yassen very much enjoys this and takes advantage of it. To work out his frustrations he kills someone, roughly to look like a mugging gone wrong just for the rush. One day Alex goes to the krav maga training centre or a gym, Yassen, still trailing him, thinks his competence is extremely alluring. He dreams (still a rare occasion) that Alex is by his side helping him to torture and kill his victims. He realises that he does not want to kill Alex, can't bring himself to even want to destroy such a beautiful addictive innocent person. However he still wants to hurt him, wants to fuck him, and wants Alex by his side. He's not sure if Alex would ever enjoy death the way Yassen does but he's willing to play the long game and dream.

Yassen leaves little gifts in Alex's locker for V

Yassen gets an offer for a very high paying job in France and decides to take it as it's not too far, he's decided hes in it for the long haul with Alex and he has his cameras to keep an eye on him. However, he decides, that it is best to have trackers to keep an eye on Alex. The best bet is his shoes- he owns quite a few but not nearly as many as clothes and a thick rubber sole can conceal tech much better than thin fabric. He also wants a tracker on Alex's phone for when location is disabled or the phone is turned off for backup. He also wants to add a listening bug for, once again, if the phone is turned off etc. 

He has to sneak into the Rider house when Alex is in to achieve all this. He comes in the middle of the night, very quietly on the day he knows Alex sleeps most deeply due to sports practice and cams. Efficient, he gets the job done but then, once finished he can't help his attention drifting to the sleeping Alex. He brushes a hand through his hair, and encountering no stirring, then over his cheek, across his lips, then he's sliding his hand under Alex's top, mapping out his skin then hands wander below belt , his ass cheeks, his pucker, over his cock but then Alex stirs in more ways than one and Yassen backs off. With one last parting stroke through his hair Yassen is off - to relieve himself and to his job.

Eventually yassen sends Alex things like clothes

Toothbrush extrapolation for N

Yassen hires a small team of people to 'mug' Alex. cos he's only seen him in controlled Train Ng settings and wants to know his potential more.

Yassen kills someone and leaves the body where Alex and a group of friends will discover it, carefully making sure Alex has an alibi lest they saw the connection between Ian and suspected Alex. He wants to see his reaction to death when it's someone he does not have s personal connection to. 

Yassen once again hires a group to go after Alex but this time they are instructed to fight to kill. Yassen waits to step in if need be, he does not want Alex dead, but he has faith in his boy's skills. He wants to see if he will kill some of the attackers, how bad he would hurt them.

A flashback to Yassen's first kills

Someone makes a move on Alex or pisses Alex off and Yassen has them killed, scouring Alex's reactions.

He starts to develop a routine of coming in Alex's room and watching him sleep and touching him gently. Eventually though he manages to drug Alex and takes advantage of his unconscious state. 

Yassen dons a cover and meets Alex properly, gauging whether the boy finds him attractive (which he does) and attempts to make a move on Alex above board (ish) or befriends him and gains his trust.

Yassen has a sex toy delivered to the Rider house. Maybe perceived at being sent to the wrong address by mistake (maybe the name on the parcel is John Hunter to draw Alex in by the first name and have him open it. Alex , as Yassen had hoped, keeps the toy and Yassen watches from the cameras.

Alex eventually realises he's being taken advantage of . He goes Crawley for help. Yassen realises and he kills Crawley and his team before they can take away Alex.

He also kills Jack (removes magazine in front of Alex to show he's harmless so Alex's guard goes down then he shoots Jack (a bullet had already been chambered THANK YOU you know who, Alex did not know about that) a clean kill- doesn't want to make Alex too mad at him but wants to makes him hurt) and kidnaps Alex. He enjoys the pain this causes Alex. He's been planning something like kidnapping him like this for a while.

He kidnaps Tom too in order to keep him in line- Alex, terrified from seeing Jack and the others die, complies. Keeps them in seperate rooms for the most part though maybe he asks them to do certain things together whilst Yassen watches.

Maybe one day Alex rebels like , you're not going to let Tom go- he has too much information and might as well risk escaping. Yassen hurts Tom, then tells Alex that if he wants Tom to live then he has to kill someone.

Yassen figures out a plan that will end up with Tom dead at the hands of MI6/whatever I decide Crawley was from (with Alex unable to deny who did it) (paid inside man? Tom seen as a witness to what happened? Aiming at gregorovich and hitting him instead? A situation where they can't tell he's not gregorovich? Corrupt MI6? ), Alex is numb and easily taken advantage of- building on previous stockholm he sees Yassen as the kinder option and also , having lost everyone he loves, has given up caring. He joins Yassen with what he does, morality pretty much destroyed. Maybe he tries to kill himself at one point but is stopped by Yassen- you're hurting me Alex etc etc talking down. POV Yassen- thinking Alex can only die at Yassen's own hands

They go after Mrs Jones or Blunt or both or whoever may be responsible. Story ends with Alex happy once he's taken revenge (by this point he's pretty unhinged and the dark humour is out of control) and Yalex murder husbands 'riding off into the sunset'


End file.
